Bad Influences
by Unicorn of death
Summary: Strange XigDem drabble thing to get me back into writing fanfiction. Warnings for swearing, drug use and possible lemon later. XigDem, AkuRoku, potentially others.


**Warnings: **Swearwords, drug use, probably adult shenanigans and violence later, also super gay

Parties were not all they were cracked up to be.

Demyx did not like most alcohol. He did not like loud music. Nor did he like large groups of people. He didn't even particularly like lukewarm pizza topped with rubbery cheese that other people had already touched. So why was he here?

Well, in part, he owed a favour to a friend from high school, who didn't want to be walking around Hollow Bastion alone after a party, when he would inevitably be drunk and it would inevitably be too dark to be considered safe outside. But if he was honest with himself – and he tried to be – it had more to do with the fact that he simply had nothing better to do. Since deciding to take a year out to "find himself", Demyx had discovered that "himself" just wasn't terribly interesting. His extensive soul searching had revealed very little, and he had written a grand total of two and a half songs. He had, however, learned that vodka was only tolerable when it was drowning in Coca-cola (and the proper stuff; Diet Coke made it taste, if possible, even worse), that it was possible to fuck up microwave dinners to the point that they were inedible, and that furniture was far more expensive than it had seemed on The Sims. He supposed these were useful pieces of information to possess, but far from what he had set out to discover – although tonight, surrounded by obnoxious people, at a party he had actually chosen to go to, he felt like he could barely remember what it was that he had wanted to figure out in the first place.

He was interrupted in this train of thought by some unusually loud cackling in the corner of the room. He turned to see that a game of charades had commenced and, feeling an odd mix of scornful and very left out, he got to his feet, thinking of fresh air. His knees ached a little from the change – he'd been sitting down for nearly an hour, simply looking antisocial and hoping he would blend into the sofa – but he gave himself a jaunty little shake and began to struggle through the mass of people out of the room, towards the back garden.

Someone else had decided to get some fresh air. Xigbar knew the host of the party – Xemnas, who for all of his time in university and all of his actual, not-fake ID was still a dumb teenager at heart – personally, and he wouldn't be particularly pleased with Xigbar's activities inside of the house that his parents kind-of-sort-of owned, so he had come outside for some "fresh air". Unfortunately, the night was colder than he had anticipated, and his shivering hands struggled to find his lighter and papers, let alone start rolling.

"Oh, hey." A tall, lean blonde kid in a hoodie had slouched out of the house and was standing over Xigbar, who had perched on the very edge of a garden chair with his bag on the table beside him. "You got sick of it in there too, huh?"

Xigbar shrugged, one working eye focused on his hands, which were still hopelessly trying to roll a joint. He should really have rolled it indoors, where the light was better (i.e. the light existed at all, whereas the back garden was lit only by the lights of the house bleeding through curtains) and his hands weren't so damn cold. On the other hand, he knew if he had got any of his gear out indoors he would be surrounded by scrounging cunts who would _love_ to come out with him for a smoke. "You smoke, kid?"

Demyx bristled at being addressed as "kid", but he could see the eyepatch and the scar on this guy, and he was pretty convinced that the age gap between them was significant. "Not that," he said, nodding towards the small plastic bag balanced precariously on Xigbar's knee. "I'll have a bit of a cigarette if I'm offered, but otherwise nah, it's not my thing." Mostly it wasn't his thing because he was worried about becoming interested in anything more expensive than ramen, but still.

Scrounging cunts were one thing, but a cute blonde kid who had clearly never tried weed before... "You sure? You can have a go with me if you want. No pressure though." Gosh, Xigbar's heart must have grown three sizes relatively recently. Unlike most stoners, he couldn't be fucked when it came to sharing. His philosophy in life was something along the lines of "If I paid for it, it's fucking mine", but something about this kid's big, round eyes (and the few pints of cider that sat in Xigbar's stomach already) made him just soften a little inside.

About an hour later, Demyx and Xigbar were high as kites together.

It was a lot like being drunk, Demyx found, but with more coughing (he was, as Xigbar put it, a "baby smoker") and he felt that maybe weed smelt better than vodka. He was sitting on a cold garden chair with his knee pressed against Xigbar's, and they kept jostling each other, talking and giggling and occasionally smoking a bit more. Demyx vaguely remembered he had promised Roxas he would stay at least sober enough to walk in a straight line so that he could escort him home, but Xigbar was so interesting, and Demyx found the process of rolling simply _fascinating_, and all of a sudden they had smoked almost everything Xigbar had brought to the party and Demyx didn't trust his knees to support him should he stand up.

"S'weird," Xigbar was saying, "'cause it's different in different places. Hollow Bastion, we tend to put tobacco in there as well, but you go somewhere like Destiny Islands and they don't, they just have weed."

Demyx nodded. His mouth hung slightly ajar for a moment. He wasn't quite stoned enough to forget how cold it was, even with Xigbar's leg seeming to get closer to his with every slow, clumsy sentence they exchanged. "You're really cool, y'know? Thanks for... thanks." He wanted to say, "Thanks for talking to me", but it went wrong somewhere. Xigbar grinned all the same, his scarred cheek catching a bit of moonlight and making Demyx swoon.

As of late, Xigbar had been considering the possibility that maybe he wasn't gay, since guys were mostly dull and predictable and as attractive as shovels. He found himself feeling grateful towards this blonde kid who'd babbled about his sitar for at least fifteen solid minutes, for reminding him that it was possible to feel things for people other than possibly his dog. "It's cool, kid."

Just as Xigbar was grateful to Demyx for his goofy smile and excited ramblings and other things Demyx didn't even mean to do, Demyx was grateful to Xigbar for only having one eye. It was so lovely, and Demyx found himself thinking that _two_ eyes would just be _too_ much to be looking at.

Maybe that was the drugs talking, though.

xxx

Yo, so uh... it's been a while. Quite a while. I dunno, like, a year and a half kind of a while? I've had so, so much stuff going on, guys. This is gonna be an ongoing fic (I hope) and I might continue with my others, if, you know, I have any readers left.

Also, disclaimer, all of the drugs stuff is based on anecdotal evidence of others. I have never done a drugs.


End file.
